


The Greenhouse Effect

by HappilyShanghaied



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fluff and Angst, Furniture maker!Archie, Gardener!Archie, On the Run, POV Jughead Jones, Post-Season/Series 02 Finale, Regina Villanueva never gives up, Sort of? - Freeform, Witness Protection, fluff plus angst equals flangst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-06-22 22:18:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15591984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappilyShanghaied/pseuds/HappilyShanghaied
Summary: With the Ghoulies after Jughead and Archie facing life in prison without parole, the friends decide to take their chances on the run rather than risk the worst by staying in Riverdale. As the months wear on in isolation, all of their relationships are put to the test, but one of the four has never enjoyed life more.*****He glanced at her for a moment, a vision in white cotton lace, and swiftly looked away as if he’d seen something private that wasn’t really meant for him. “I’ve probably wanted to do this with you since that street fair the summer after 3rd grade. You know, the one where we both married Archie?”Betty giggled at the memory, and the tension in her grip eased. “I can’t believe Mr. Salazar actually sanctioned our polygamy.”“Well, he was always a bit of a free spirit. Also, that wedding was fake.”“So is this one,” she said quietly, the smile falling off her face.“It doesn’t have to be.” Jughead angled his knees toward her and tilted her chin up with his other hand, causing a strand of her now auburn hair to fall across her face. “I’ll love you forever, whatever your name is. And, just know that when I say the words to you, I’m going to mean every one of them.”





	1. How to stay carbon neutral

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theheavycrown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheavycrown/gifts).



> Hi everybody!
> 
> Sorry I’ve been MIA the last few weeks, finals and traveling have taken me away from fic. I am still hard at work on El Niño, (I promise!), I just couldn’t get this idea out of my head and had to put pen to paper. It’s just a short two-parter and I hope you like it, despite the smut content being a little low in the first half <3
> 
> Many thanks to ArsenicPanda for jumping in and doing a lightning fast beta at a moment’s notice and to my fandom ‘daughter’ Aries for making me this lovely graphic.
> 
> This fic is dedicated to S, who gives so much of herself to this fandom and asks for so little. Happy Belated Birthday!

 

* * *

 

Betty gripped Jughead’s hand and took a deep breath, her palm slightly sweaty and sticky where it met his. “We don’t have to, you know.”

 

Her expression was so painfully serious he would have found it funny in any other circumstance. “Yeah, I know that.”

 

“Okay.” She nodded, as if reassuring herself. “That’s good.”

 

“Are you sure _you_ want to do this, Betts?” He whispered under his breath so that nobody else would hear.

 

“I said I did, Jug,” she grumbled--eyes widening with realisation after a beat--and quickly lowered her voice. “Why? Don’t you?”

 

He glanced at her for a moment, a vision in white cotton lace, and swiftly looked away as if he’d seen something private that wasn’t really meant for him. “I’ve probably wanted to do this with you since that street fair the summer after 3rd grade. You know, the one where we both married Archie?”

 

Betty giggled at the memory, and the tension in her grip eased. “I can’t believe Mr. Salazar actually sanctioned our polygamy.”

 

“Well, he was always a bit of a free spirit. Also, that wedding was fake.”

 

“So is this one,” she said quietly, the smile falling off her face.

 

“It doesn’t have to be.” Jughead angled his knees toward her and tilted her chin up with his other hand, causing a strand of her now auburn hair to fall across her face. “I’ll love you forever, whatever your name is. And, just know that when I say the words to you, I’m going to mean every one of them.”

 

The sounds of Betty’s breathing grew shallow as her hand tightened around his again. “Me too.”

 

He leaned forward and touched his forehead to hers, calmed by the feeling of her skin against his. “This can be as real as we want it to be, baby. We make our own rules.”

 

She closed her eyes and hummed in agreement, her warm breath tickling his lips. “I don’t know why I need this. We could just tell people that we’re married, forge some papers, and they’d never know the difference.”

 

“We’d know. I mean, this isn’t how I planned on doing this at all, but--”

 

Her eyes flicked open and she pulled slightly away. “You planned on doing this?”

 

“Sure. I mean, one day, when we were older-- _much older_ \--yeah.” Jughead shrugged, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “Didn’t, um--did you?”

 

“Of course I did,” she said, head tipped back as she exhaled deeply, and the look of relief that illuminated her features made his chest tighten uncomfortably.

 

In his heart, he already knew the answer, but part of him would always probably wonder if a day would come when she would realize just how much better she could do than him and call things off. “I think I’ve always loved you, Betty, even before I knew what that strange feeling in my stomach was every time you walked into a room.”

 

“I was so caught up in Archie, and I’m--I’m sorry I never noticed you like that before last year.”  Betty swallowed hard and shook her head, a pinched look on her face. Sometimes he wondered if she knew just how easy her emotions were to read, or maybe she did but didn’t care. Either way, she looked genuinely remorseful, which was so unnecessary, and yet so _her_. Just another reason why he’d been in love with her since he was 14.

 

He brought his lips near her ear and whispered, “You notice me now, though.”

 

The corner of her mouth picked up into a wry smile, and she rubbed her bare knee teasingly against his the thigh of his pants leg. “I certainly do, Jughead Jones.”

 

The wooden door of the judge’s chambers swung open, and a woman with a clipboard popped her head outside. “Liz Sanders and Jason Woodcombe?”

 

Jughead looked at Betty, and both of their hands tightened this time.

 

“That’s us,” Betty answered, eyes still locked on his, as they slowly rose to stand.

 

* * *

 

“His name is Andrew Sanders. Can you please check again for me?” Phone still in hand, Veronica collapsed against the nest of pillows she’d arranged on the living room floor and let loose a primal scream that Jughead thought sounded bizarrely similar to a dying whale.

 

“Lemme guess...the disability office?” Jughead asked, already knowing the answer. With Archie unable to leave the house, Veronica had been frantically trying to find a source of income for him. God knows, they needed it.

 

As they’d all predicted, Archie had been vehemently against filing for public assistance, his working class pride keeping him from even entertaining the idea. But, after weeks of failing as a virtual assistant and no other marketable skills beyond lifting heavy objects, there wasn’t much else he could do. FP had felt the same way about filing for unemployment, and seeing how that panned out, Jughead figured it might not be the worst idea for Archie to suck it up and file. Unlike him, Archie didn’t know what it felt like to go to bed hungry.

 

“If they’re going to keep putting me on hold, the least they can do is get better hold music. I’ve heard the jazz flute version of ‘Girl from Ipanema’ at least five times now.” Veronica whimpered into one of the pillows she was reclining on and straightened the horn-rimmed glasses she’d knocked askew during her antics.

 

“Still no luck, huh?” Betty shot Veronica a sympathetic look before sitting next to Jughead on the couch.

 

“Archie would kill me if he knew I was doing this,” Veronica’s eyes darted nervously to the empty doorway, “but we need the money so he’s just going to have to deal. My mom can only sneak us so much without daddy noticing and that speakeasy cash isn’t going to last us forever...not that I plan on doing this forever.” She fell back against the cushions and waggled her eyebrows. “Too bad Archie can’t put his greatest skill to good use.”

 

“Gross!” Jughead grabbed the nearest throw pillow and tossed it at Veronica’s head, missing her spectacularly.

 

Veronica snagged the pillow from the floor and added it to her pile. “God, you men are such babies when it comes to your own sexual exploitation. It’s not as if women haven’t been forced into using their wiles as a means of putting a roof over their heads since the beginning of time. And I’m not even talking about sex workers, I’m just talking about marriage.”

 

Jughead wasn’t sure what should have concerned him more: Veronica’s increasing cynicism about life since they’d been on the run or his own growing optimism. “That’s a pretty grim view of male-female relationships, Ronnie.”

 

Veronica held her finger up to silence his response. “Yes, Regina Villanueva, I’m Andrew Sanders’s domestic partner--are you serious?!” Her face contorted so violently Jughead thought she might have suffered a stroke. “I’m on fucking hold again! How do poor people deal with this Kafkaesque shitshow on a daily basis, J?”

 

“You’re ‘poor people’ now, ‘Reggie’.” Jughead didn’t actually resent Veronica’s privilege, since he knew she more than paid for the pampered lifestyle she used to have in less tangible ways, but he still couldn’t help the warm feeling he got from watching a rich person experience basic human frustration.

 

“Be nice,” Betty warned him, a knowing look on her face.

 

“Fuck this!” Veronica threw her phone across the room, the side of the couch cushioning its impact. “How much money do you think Archie can make sex camming if we only show him from the neck down?”

 

Jughead made a loud gagging noise to drown out the sounds of Veronica’s pondering.

 

“Fragile masculinity is so exhausting.” Veronica carped to Betty as she pulled herself from the floor. “I’m going to run this idea by Archie again and hope he’s less of a prude about it this time. Wish me luck.”

 

“No!” Jughead called out to her retreating form. “We absolutely won’t!”

 

Betty was silent for a moment, before inching slightly away to look at him. “What’s wrong with camming, Jug?”

 

His brow rose at the question; it was the last thing he expected to come out of her mouth. “Nothing. I’m not, like, shaming people who do it, I’m a borderline Libertarian, for fuck’s sake, I just, I mean, it’s not something somebody like Archie should have to resort to.”

 

“Resort to?” Her gaze narrowed at him strangely and something shifted in the air.

 

“Not--I just mean Archie shouldn’t have to sell his body for cash. He’s not--”

 

“--not _what_?” Her voice was calm, but as her eyes flashed with anger he knew he was in trouble. They always looked a deeper hue of green when she was furious.

 

Jughead swallowed as his brain cycled through a litany of better responses, but his thoughts kept returning to one single question that he absolutely did not want to know the answer to. “Is this something that, um, you’ve been thinking about doing...yourself?”

 

Her expression grew challenging, and she took a deep breath before speaking. “What if I said yes? What then?”

 

If the ground had ruptured beneath him he would’ve felt less shaken. “Do you--do you want me to give you the answer I think you want or how I really feel?”

 

“The truth,” she gritted out through a tightened jaw.

 

“Maybe it makes me a chauvinist, but I don’t want anybody seeing you like that but me,” he said, feeling like a caveman as the words left his lips. “You’re my--look, I know I don’t control your choices, but God, Betty, I’ll just knock over a convenience store if you think we need the money that badly.”

 

“What if I wasn't doing it for the money?”

 

Jughead brushed a hand over his face and tried to quell the nausea rising in his gut. “Am I not...giving you something you need? Do you not like the way I—”

 

“No!” Betty’s hard demeanor softened so quickly it gave him emotional whiplash. She was on her knees instantly, climbing into his lap, grabbing the sides of his face like putty. “Oh my God, Jug, I didn’t mean--” She kissed him hard, like she was trying to push her love into him through osmosis. “You’re always enough. Always. Please don’t--I love you.” She kissed him softly this time, and he could feel her body shaking in his arms.

 

When she pulled back, he saw tears brimming in her eyes, and though he fully believed she meant everything she’d said to him, he had never felt so unmoored in his life. There had been only one time he’d ever seen her like this--at the diner when she’d practically begged him to run away with him--and he’d stupidly chalked her mood up to her missing him. She had been lying to him then, and he knew it in his bones that she was keeping something from him now, too.

 

He cupped her cheek with one hand, and she pressed her face into his palm. “Please tell me what’s happening here, baby? What don’t I know?”

 

She glanced at him for a moment, then looked away. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Jug, that was our old life.”

 

“It matters to me, you’re clearly upset.” Taking in her defensive stance, he rested a hand on the back of her neck to calm her. “If you’re worried it will make me look at you differently, you can stop. I promise it won’t.”

 

Betty took in his expression, as if assessing his sincerity, and bit her bottom lip. “It was when Chic was living with us, before we knew he wasn’t _our_ Chic. He saw my scars and told me he used to hurt himself the same way, too, until he—he’d found another way to cope.”

 

Jughead pressed his forehead into her collarbone and tried to suppress the white hot rage starting to burn inside of him. “What did he tell you to do?”

 

Her fingers twined nervously in his hair, a little too sharply to be comfortable, but the pain kept him focused. “He helped me open up an account on an adult website. I lied about my age, of course, but I don’t think that would’ve mattered to the men who used to pay me to talk them off...”

 

“Shit.” His arms crushed her to his chest, but he couldn’t look at her, not yet. This was his fault. If he hadn’t abandoned her when she needed him, pushed her away, maybe she wouldn’t have fallen prey to a child predator? “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry, Betts. If I’d just been there...”

 

The hand in his hair gentled, and she tipped his face up to look at her. “Are you actually blaming yourself right now?” She wiped a tear from his cheek and smiled softly at him. “It was desperate and dumb, but I’m okay now, Jughead. Chic more than paid for his sins in the end.”

 

“He sure as hell did.” A surge of affection shot through him at the memory of her triumph. She had always been so much stronger than all of them combined. “But, you don’t need to do that anymore, do you? I mean, if you think it helps you we’ll just, I guess I’ll just have to figure out how to deal.”

 

Betty’s eyes lightened like the sea after a storm as she started to laugh. “I’d prefer to keep my cam work to one client only...if he’s willing?”

 

Jughead wasn’t proud of how quickly the suggestion made him hard, but she didn’t seem to mind. “You’re asking me this like I’m going to say no.”

 

* * *

 

“This fucking sucks.” Archie sat in the center of the living room of their two story Burlington rental in only his boxer shorts, petulantly strumming his guitar as Veronica massaged a bottle of dark brown dye into his hair.

 

“I don’t know, man, I miss being a brunet.” Jughead pulled at an errant lock of his sandy blond hair and twisted it around his finger.

 

“You look good both ways, my love,” Betty assured him with a pat to the arm, and he used the hand as leverage to reel her in for a kiss.

 

“Ugh. Ever since you two got fake married, you’ve been positively unbearable.” Veronica’s nose wrinkled at them, but her complaint sounded hollow.

 

After Archie’s arraignment, when it had become clear he hadn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of getting a fair trial in Riverdale, things between Veronica and Archie had been strained. She felt responsible for allowing him to get mixed up with her dad, though Jughead figured it was Archie’s own damn fault for being so stupidly trusting and loyal. It never ceased to amaze Jughead how a person’s best qualities could be so easily weaponized against them.

 

Ronnie ended up short-selling her club to Cheryl for an overly generous price, and with Hermoine’s help, they secured new identities, complete with backstories and fancy college diplomas.

 

Even if Jughead hadn’t had a hit put out on him by Penny Peabody, he probably still would’ve opted to go on the run with Archie. His best friend was not built for a life off the grid. But, knowing a Ghoulie could be lying in wait to murder him at every turn made the decision an easy one. He was lucky Betty was willing to give up her entire existence for him, her identity, her family. Deep down, he questioned whether she really would, but after seeing the hurt look on her face after he’d told her he didn’t expect her to come, he would never doubt her devotion again.

 

Veronica pulled the rubber gloves from her hands and threw them in the nearest trash can. “I need wine.”

 

“Well, thanks to your mother, I’m now 21 and was able to pick up a bottle of Italian rose on the way home from work. It’s in the fridge.” Betty pointed with her foot toward the kitchen.

 

“You’re suddenly less unbearable now, darling.” Veronica beamed a smile at Betty and went off in search of the bottle. “Come along, Andrew. I need to make use of your strong arms and tight grip.”

 

Archie leapt to his feet and began to follow behind. “I sure as hell hope that means sex and not corking a wine bottle for you. Again.”

 

As soon as they were gone, Jughead pulled Betty into his lap. “How was work today? Did you make new friends and influence people?”

 

She rested the back of her head against his shoulder. “No, but I made coffee and ate lunch at my desk alone.”

 

“That actually sounds like a perfect day to me.”

 

Betty snorted against his cheek. “Of course it does. I’m just so damned bored. Maybe, I should just work from home like you do?”

 

His hand worked its way under the edge of her tank top and absently rubbed her abdomen. “You won’t have to do this job long.”

 

She stretched her arms over her head and sighed. “That’s what you said about the last one.”

 

“And I was right, because you quit and now you’re at this job.”

 

Betty turned toward him and blew a raspberry against his cheek. “You’re such a dick, sometimes.”

 

He wiped the moisture off his face and onto his jeans. “You like me this way.”

 

“Do I?” She smiled, and not for the first time today he was struck with how fucking lucky he was. “You’d better hope so.”

 

Who knew that having his life threatened would be the best thing that ever happened to him?

 

Betty’s hair was wild and wavy, as it had been since they’d hit the road. He liked her this way, carefree and unburdened by the social rules of her past. And, after four months, he was even getting used to her new hair color. She peered over at his laptop screen. “So, what did you call yourself today?”

 

Jughead finished running spell check on some ad copy, attached it to a chat screen, and clicked the send button with entirely far more flourish than was warranted. “Naveen.”

 

Betty huffed out a laugh. “This is some sort of ironic protest that nobody but you will ever know about or appreciate, right?”

 

“You appreciate it.” He smirked at her, then folded his laptop and shifted it to the coffee table. “Why should workers at Indian call centers have to adopt American names, just because we’re too lazy to learn how to pronounce their real ones? I’m just leveling the karmic playing field.”

 

“You’re online bidding for copy and editing work. Do you honestly think most clients even notice who they hired to write their Christmas newsletter?” Betty scooted to one end of the sofa and dropped her feet into his lap. “Naveen, Jason, Forsythe—what’s the difference?”

 

“Maybe, I’m trying to give you some variety so you don’t get bored of me? I like to keep you on your toes.” Jughead wiggled the smallest toe on her left foot.

 

“Jug, the very last thing you could ever be to me is boring.”

 

“Thank you, wife,” he said, a common refrain nowadays.

 

Her eyes darkened as she pulled back her legs and straddled his lap. It was uncanny how easily that word got her going lately. “You’re welcome, husband.”

 

She pressed herself against the rising bulge in his pants, and he choked off a groan. “Elizabeth Woodcombe, you tease.”

 

“Betty,” she whispered in his ear to remind him. “I’m Betty at home.”

 

“Betty,” he repeated, over and over again, as he peppered her face with kisses. “I want to be inside of you, Betty.”

 

She sighed and locked her legs around his waist. “Then take me to bed.”

 

* * *

 

 

Archie was in the backyard tending to the garden he’d created. The empty plot of dirt that he had lovingly slaved over all summer had been a surprisingly successful endeavor, providing not only produce for their own house, but enough for Betty to sell at the farmer’s market on Sundays.

 

Archie was wringing the last few vegetables from the garden like the dregs from the bottom of a tube of toothpaste. His Eden couldn’t last much longer, not with the trees around them starting to turn from verdant greens to burnished ambers over the last few weeks. The project had given Archie’s anxiety a productive outlet, and Jughead wondered what would become of his friend once the last leaf hit the ground at the end of September.

 

“What do you think about me building a greenhouse, Jug?” Archie wiped his brow with the back of his hand, leaving behind a long smudge of dirt. “For once it gets cold out.”

 

Jughead forced a smile, hoping to cover up his skepticism. “If you think you can keep it warm enough in the winter, I say go for it.”

 

“Did you know that Iceland is entirely made of volcanic rock? They’ve got no soil and have to use greenhouses to hydroponically grow everything they don’t import.” Archie was standing shirtless with an apron incongruously tied around his chest.

 

The idea of Archie researching greenhouses and falling into a Wikipedia hole about Iceland brought a genuine smile to Jughead’s face. “How do they keep their plants warm enough to grow?”

 

“Geothermal energy. The entire city of Reykjavík is powered by it.” Archie tossed a set of garden shears onto the grass and stared at a withering, zebra-striped tomato vine with the type of deep sadness usually only reserved for hospice visits. “Maybe we could go camping there sometime? My dad and I always talked about going to see The Northern Lights one day.”

 

“Sure, Arch.” Jughead’s good humor began to falter again. Neither one of them would be going anywhere for a very long time and they both knew it. “Sounds like a plan.”

 

Solitude never bothered Jughead much. He was an outcast for most of his childhood, content to spend all his free time with the only two kids who were willing to talk to him. They were the same two friends he was currently living with now, so his life hadn’t changed much in that regard. If anything, the addition of Veronica had been an unexpected boon to Jughead’s socialization.

 

Sure, he missed going to the movies and taking Betty out on a date, but he could still put her on the back of his bike, and with her cheek against his shoulder and the rubber on the the road, he felt freer than he ever had back in Riverdale. In Burlington, nobody looked to him for guidance, he wasn’t responsible for anyone who wasn’t on the family chore wheel. He had never set out to lead a gang, hadn’t even wanted to join one at first, and he was man enough to admit the absence of the Serpents from his life left him feeling markedly lighter.

 

If he stepped one foot back in Riverdale, he was as sure as dead, but the Ghoulies were a local gang and not likely to have feelers out as far as Vermont. Here, he could just be himself--or be ‘Jason Woodcombe’, at least.

 

Archie’s situation was far more dire, though, as Hiram had sworn a blood feud with him. The older man’s need to exact vengeance was palpable, even from as far afield as New England. His organization had a long reach, and Archie couldn’t really take chances by leaving the house. Even with his hair dyed, wearing a disguise, Archie didn’t have the same ability to disappear into a crowd like the rest of them. He couldn’t help but turn heads wherever he went.

 

Being a social animal by nature, the isolation was hardest on him. If it weren’t for the garden keeping him outside in fresh air during daylight hours, Jughead was sure that his best friend would’ve lost the plot by now.

 

“Hey, Jug?” Archie noticed the dirt on his hands and wiped them on his apron. “How do you feel about soap?”

 

Jughead struggled to follow the conversation. “As a concept?”

 

“No, dude, as a product. Betty says she can make cool packaging for me if I decide to do it.” Archie scratched his head in thought, then noticed a weed in his nightshade vegetable plot and climbed into the box to pull it free from the soil bed. “I thought maybe I’d make it using a goat’s milk base, but Ronnie won’t let me get a goat.”

 

There had been a point not that long ago that Jughead and Betty had debated whether Archie had gone full Howard Hughes or was still clinging to some semblance of sanity. They both had underestimated the situation gravely. “Couldn’t you just buy a carton of goat’s milk?”

 

Archie looked at Jughead as if he had suggested serving tofurkey at Christmas. “Are you being serious right now?”

 

“Are you?” Jughead asked nervously under his breath.

 

* * *

 

“Do you—do you think I don’t know that?” Jughead heard Archie shouted indignantly from behind the closed door of his friends’ bedroom as he passed by.

 

He slowed to a stop, morbidly riveted by the sounds of yet another one of their increasingly frequent arguments.

 

“Calm down, Andy, they’ll hear us,” Veronica warned in a low voice.

 

“Archie! My name is Archie!” Archie shrieked, and what Jughead assumed to be a bathroom cabinet slammed shut.

 

“No, it’s not. Not if you want to live.” Verona hissed back.

 

A long pause followed before Archie pathetically croaked, “What kind of life is this, anyway?”

 

“The kind of life I’ve given up everything to make happen...” Veronica sounded tense, as she had for weeks now.

 

She may have been raised like a princess, but she was made of sterner stuff than the boy from working class stock. Veronica knew how to hunker down, how to sacrifice, how to make the best of a bad situation. She had never been Jughead’s favorite person, but he could at least respect that about her. And, now that she was without all of her usual artifice, he’d discovered he might actually be starting to like her company.

 

Archie sighed heavily, loud enough to be heard through their paper-thin walls. “I know that, Ronnie. You remind me often enough.”

 

“I’m sorry, Archikins. I’m not trying to make you feel—look, I know things have been tense, but we’ll settle into this new life eventually. I know we will, honey.”

 

“You shouldn’t have to live like this because of me,” Archie mumbled, the sound of his voice muffled by something fabric. “If I’d just listened to you about your dad—“

 

“Stop eavesdropping, Juggie,” Betty chided from the end of the hallway, lifting her eyebrow in judgment. “You wouldn’t like it if they were listening to us.”

 

Jughead reached his hand out and allowed her to lead him down the hall and into the kitchen. “We don’t fight like that.”

 

Betty walked toward the central island of their kitchen and pushed herself up onto the countertop, selected a banana from the fruit bowl and began to peel it. “No, not now, but we could.”

 

“We wouldn’t.” Jughead watched her take an overly large bite and struggle to chew it. “Are you worried we will?”

 

He wasn’t sure what he wanted her answer to be. He knew she’d be lying if she said no, he knew her well enough to know the concern had been rolling around in the back of her mind for some time now, but hearing her admit it out loud might give birth to the possibility, and the idea of it frightened him. Jughead inwardly rolled his eyes at himself for harboring the kind of superstition he’d always mocked other people for having. It was irrational, he knew, but Betty always had a knack for inspiring this kind of magical thinking in him.

 

“Being on the run is stressful and they’re not used to that,” she said, taking a more measured bite out of her banana this time and chewing it carefully. “Fred and Mary Andrews are the only good parents we know and Hermione would straight-up murder somebody for Veronica. They have something potentially good to go back to. We—well, we don’t. Not anymore.”

 

“Betty, you love your family, you must miss them.”

 

”My mom barely remembers I exist, Jug. Everything that’s good in my life is standing right here in this kitchen.”

 

Jughead stepped between her parted legs and cupped her face. “I don’t care where we live as long as we never turn into that,” he angled his head toward the hallway. “I’d rather get whacked by one of the Ghoulies. But, if you ever want to go back—“

 

“—I don’t,” she quickly answered. “In Riverdale, I’m the daughter of a mass murderer, the soon-to-be stepdaughter of a cult leader. I’d rather just be your wife in Vermont, if it’s all the same to you.”

 

Her words were like a balm on Jughead’s conscience, and he pressed his forehead to her collarbone, exhaling his relief. “I just don’t want you to regret anything. I don’t want you to wake up one day in ten years and think ‘I gave up everything for this asshole and he’s ruined my life’. That would kill me.”

 

“Jughead,” she set the banana peel down on the counter and wrapped her legs around his waist, tugging him closer. “If I’d stayed behind without you, _that_ would have ruined my life. I’ll admit, I do miss school, and I hate having to do shitty jobs instead of pursuing a journalism career, and I sometimes wonder if Archie’s slow descent into madness is contagious, but I’d do it all again in a heartbeat if the alternative meant leaving you.”

 

“Betty, you're meant for better things than this.”

 

“Are you actively trying to convince me to leave you? Stop it,” she whispered harshly. “I know watching Veronica and Archie fall apart is making you paranoid about us, but we’re not them. Stress can’t crack a solid foundation.”

 

He couldn’t help but grin at her. “Somebody was paying attention in physics class.”

 

Betty tasted of bananas as she kissed the smile off his face. “If it makes you feel any better, I will come up with a whole list of unrelated reasons for calling you an asshole ten years from now. I promise.”

 

“That’s...disheartening.”

 

“No, babe, that’s marriage.” She gently poked his chest.

 

* * *

 

Jughead had been in the kitchen for the last hour making turkey lasagna for tomorrow’s dinner when he heard the high pitched cackling of Veronica’s laugh floating down the hallway. He followed it to the living room, only to find Betty and Veronica lying on the floor of the living room with a laptop and and two nearly empty bottles of wine lying between them.

 

Veronica squinted at a small picture on the screen. “That thing looks like it would hurt, Elizabeth.”

 

Betty snorted a laugh and lightly brushed her shoulder against Veronica’s. “Yeah, that’s kind of its sole purpose.”

 

“It’s always the ones you least expect,” Veronica marveled, tipping the last of the pink wine into her glass.

 

Jughead had a feeling about where this conversation was headed, and it was nowhere good. “What brand of madness is this?”

 

“Juggie!” Betty rolled onto her back and reached out for him with grabby hands. It wasn’t until he stepped closer to her that he noticed her flushed face and glassy eyes. She was drunk again, which had become something of a habit since Archie moved out of his and Veronica’s bedroom and Betty had taken it upon herself to distract her best friend.

 

Jughead had been tolerant of it at first, not wanting any part of the Varchie implosion they were all stuck living through the last few weeks. But, now, between the sad music coming from the guest room at all hours of the night and Betty falling into bed half the week in a stupor, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay a conscientious objector.

 

He stood over Betty, one foot on either side of her torso, and glanced at Veronica with disappointment. “You got her drunk, again.”

 

“Wrong. She got _me_ drunk, you buzzkill,” Veronica shot back, punctuating her jibe with a flick to his ankle. “Why do you always assume that I’m the bad influence?”

 

Jughead stared unblinkingly at her.

 

“Fine!” Veronica shouted dramatically, dropping one forearm over her eyes like Sarah Bernhardt.  “No, I get it. Your best friend got sucked up into my orbit and now he’s a wanted criminal. You’re probably worried Liz is next.”

 

“I’m not worried that _Betty_ is next,” he said, correcting Veronica, bristling at her use of Betty’s cover name at home. “What happened with Archie wasn’t your fault.”

 

Veronica’s arm slipped from her eyes, and she peered up at him through dark lashes. “Do you really mean that, J?”

 

Jughead plopped down on the floor between the women and drank the remnants from Betty’s wine glass. “Archie is...he’s never had good judgment. There was this one time in 8th grade that I dared him to climb onto the roof of my treehouse, and Betty begged him not do do it—“

 

“—because it was a stupid dare,” Betty interjected.

 

“All dares are stupid, Betty, that’s the point.” Jughead’s brain cycled through the litany of dangerous shit Archie and he used to get up to as children, and he grimaced.

 

She rolled her eyes indulgently at him and rested her head against his knee. “Jug promised Archie that I would kiss him if he made it to the top.”

 

“You wanted to kiss him,” he reminded her, tapping her forehead, “I was doing you a favor.”

 

Veronica sat up onto her elbows, looking far more coordinated than she ought to after consuming nearly a bottle of wine. “Did he make it?”

 

“Oh, he made it.” Jughead smiled at the memory of Archie whooping and hollering that he was a ‘golden god’ from the treehouse rooftop. “And then he promptly fell to the ground and broke his arm.”

 

Veronica sat up entirely and covered her mouth in shock. “Oh my god, he could’ve broken his neck instead.”

 

“Yeah, but I doubt even knowing that could happen would’ve stopped him from doing it. He’s stubborn like that, once he gets an idea into his head.” He hoped Veronica wasn’t too tipsy to get the underlying message.

 

Veronica leaned forward and pushed a strand of Betty’s hair out of her face. “I can’t say I blame him, knowing what a great kisser your wife is.”

 

Jughead groaned as hard as Betty giggled at the compliment. Apparently, that joke would never die.

 

“He wasn’t motivated by the idea of kissing me, he didn’t even ask to collect his winnings.” Betty pushed her cheek harder against Jughead's thigh and stretched her arms and legs out like a cat.

 

“That only tells me that Archie has always been stupid,” Veronica’s cavalier tone fell very flat. “And yet, I still can’t help but feel like this is all my fault. If he’d never met me—“

 

“Nothing good is going to come from following that thread to the end, Ronnie,” Jughead warned, tentatively touching her hand, and it occurred to him that this might be the first time he’d ever tried to comfort her. “What’s done is done. Archie is a big boy and you warned him not to get involved with your dad. It’s his own fault he was too dumb to listen.”

 

Betty crawled the few feet toward Veronica and dropped her head onto the other woman’s lap. “I’ve known Archie a long time, and he’s never been very good about saying no to people. I suspect he’s just feeling guilty about falling into your father’s trap and forcing you to live like this. He’s feeling so many things right now and just doesn’t know where to put it all.”

 

“I’ve got a few ideas of where he could put it,” Veronica mumbled under her breath.

 

“He loves you so much,” Betty assured her in calming, dulcet tones. “He does.”

 

“I love him too, Betty, but, I don’t know how to help him—he won’t let me. He just paces angrily around the house all day like a bear in a habitat and I just—he won’t talk to me about it. Maybe I was wrong? Maybe we’re not soulmates like you and Jug? I’m starting to wonder if this was all a mistake.”

 

Betty sat up quickly—too quickly if her scrunched up expression as anything to go by—and rested her hands on Veronica’s shoulders. “You’re no quitter, Veronica Lodge. We are going to prove that Archie didn’t kill that kid at the cabin, and you and he are going to get your lives back and go home soon.”

 

Veronica looked taken in for a moment by Betty’s pep talk but then visibly deflated, shaking her head. “You can’t promise that.”

 

“Yes, I can.” Betty grabbed onto Veronica’s arm for balance. “Ask Jug—I can do anything! I will prove Archie isn’t a murderer the same way I proved that my father was.”

 

Veronica’s gaze met Jughead’s, and he could see his own concern for Betty mirrored in her eyes. This new brazenness was more than just the booze taking. Betty had been cagier than usual lately, squirrelly when answering basic questions, keeping things to herself more. He’d given her space, hoping whatever she was going through would pass or she’d finally come to him to talk about it, but she never had.

 

This couldn’t fester any longer. He refused to let their relationship end up like Veronica and Archie’s.

 

“I believe in you, girl, I do.” Veronica smiled encouragingly. “And if you say you’re going to prove his innocence, then I’ll start packing my bags in anticipation.”

 

Betty exhaled a shaky breath and returned her friend’s smile. “Good. Now go make up with my ‘twin brother’, so things can get back to normal around here...as normal as they can.”

 

Veronica pulled a disgusted face. “It’s still creepy as hell to me that my mom made you and Archie siblings.”

 

“Two couples living together in a house seems less weird that way,” Betty explained.

 

“But, you’ve kissed him before, it’s like you’re the Blossom twins.” Veronica seemed delighted by Betty’s shocked expression and planted a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll try to talk to him. I don’t know if he’ll listen, but Regina Villanueva never gives up!”

 

Jughead didn’t know how to add to the conversation, but he thought he should at least say something. “Good luck, Ronnie.”

 

Veronica leaned on the edge of the couch to pull herself up and nodded at him. “Take care of our girl, Jones,” she said as she walked away, making it sound more like a directive than a request.

 

“Do you think they’ll be okay?” Betty asked, sounding younger than she had in a while.

 

“I don’t know.” Jughead shrugged his shoulders.

 

Betty stared at the carpet as she hugged herself, mouth downturned, seemingly deep in thought. “I know I shouldn’t have promised her I’d prove Archie’s case, but I had to do something to give her hope.”

 

“Come here.” Jughead opened his arms, and she fell against him, allowing him to envelop her. “You were doing what you do best, which is being a good friend.”

 

She leaned back and looked up at him. “I thought you said blowjobs were what I do best?”

 

“Jesus, Betty.” Jughead laughed harder than he had all week. “How did I end up with such a pervert?”

 

“Just luck, I guess?”

 

“I can’t argue with that.”

 

“Good, you shouldn’t.” Betty nuzzled her face against his neck, and he could feel her back tense up. “Jug? What do you think everybody in Riverdale thinks about us leaving?”

 

“I honestly don’t give a shit.”

 

Her eyebrows bunched at his harsh tone. “You don’t think your dad’s frantic with worry about not knowing where you are?”

 

“No,” he answered honestly and pulled her closer. “He never seemed too concerned about where I was when I lived on the streets, I doubt he’s lost too much sleep about it, now.”

 

Betty looked sad, the way she always did when he brought up his homeless stint, and made a considering noise. “Sometimes, I wonder if my mom even notices I’m gone. Maybe she’s so wrapped up in her new life that it’s like I was never there?”

 

“You’re not an easy person to forget, baby.”

 

He could feel her smile against his neck. “You have to say nice stuff like that.”

 

“I say it because it’s true.” He kissed the side of her forehead, letting his lips linger there for a moment.

 

“I wish I felt half as good about me as you do.” Her fingers hooked into his belt loops, and she tugged until he fell against her, then kissed him with the passion that only a full bottle of wine could produce. “I want you to fuck me.”

 

“Can we—“ He pushed her hands away from where they were busy unbuttoning his fly and grabbed her wrists. “Can we talk for a minute first? About the drinking?”

 

She pulled abruptly away from him and looked at the floor. “Oh god, I'm sorry. I’m sorry. This is probably giving you flashbacks of your dad.”

 

“No.” Jughead sighed at the chastised look on Betty’s face and touched her cheek. “My dad has never tried to pull my dick out of my pants, but yeah, I’m worried. You’ve been drinking more and more lately and I’m wondering why. If it’s because you miss home—“

 

“I don’t miss home.” She shook her head, still unable to meet his gaze. “I’ve just been feeling...remember, after the terrible birthday party I threw you, when we were at Pops?”

 

“Your hands?” He anxiously opened her palms for signs of self-harm and was relieved not to have found any marks. “Are you feeling those dark feelings again?”

 

She nodded sharply and let out a breath she’d been holding. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been trying to pull myself out of it, handle it alone, but I—it’s hard.”

 

“Handle it alone? Will you look at me?” When she finally picked her head up, the abject terror on her face took his breath away. “Betty, you’re supposed to let me help you with this stuff. I’m your—you’re my responsibility.”

 

“I don’t want to be a burden.” She looked down again and he bucked her chin to prompt her back up.

 

“Why would you think I could ever see you that way?”

 

“I don’t know. I’m just not thinking very straight right now.” She bit her lip so hard he was worried she had drawn blood.

 

A disturbing thought entered his mind unbidden, and despite knowing what a bad move it was, he still couldn't help but ask. “You’re not webcamming again, are you?”

 

“Fuck. You.” Betty abruptly rose from the couch and stalked off in the direction of their bedroom.

 

Jughead froze for a moment and then charged after her to catch up. “Betty, stop! Please!”

 

She spun around, auburn hair licking her face like flames. “No, you stop. I would never have told you that if I knew you were going to just—just—just throw it in my face! You promised me.”

 

Betty pushed open their bedroom door with a bang and let it ricochet shut behind her cutting off his entry.

 

Jughead took a deep breath and slowly pushed the door open again and closed it behind him. She was face down on the bed and sobbing, and Jughead felt like throwing himself into a volcano for causing her pain.

 

He crawled onto the mattress and lightly pressed a hand between her shoulder blades in an attempt to soothe her. “Betty, I’m so sorry. You’re right, and I know I’m really awful at this.”

 

Her crying eased with each slow circle he painted on her back until she’d finally calmed down. “You said you’d never look at me differently,” she murmured into the bedspread. “I knew that was bullshit.”

 

Jughead gently turned her onto her side and lay down to face her. “I’m the worst.”

 

“Yes, you are.” She pulled the bottom of his shirt up and brazenly used it to wipe her face clean.

 

He brushed away the hair that was stuck to her wet face and rested his hand on the juncture of her neck and shoulder. “I’m really scared, Betty.”

 

“I’m really scared too,” she whispered, as if admitting it aloud would make things worse. “I’ve never been able to control this, and now that I’m on my own I’m worried I never will.”

 

“You’re not,” he insisted, pressing himself close to her, a firm line against her soft curves. “You’re not alone. Ever.”

 

Betty chuckled dryly but the laugh never reached her eyes. “You say that now, but what about when I go full psycho like my dad? Or my mom? Or Polly?”

 

“You are nothing like any of them. I know you can’t see it, but it’s true.” He squeezed her neck, and a sigh escaped her throat. “You probably just need medication. Whatever it is, we’ll fix it.”

 

Her eyelashes were wet again, and she asked him in the smallest voice, “What if I can’t be fixed? Will you still want to be with me?”

 

“I’ll always want you, however you are. I just want you to feel like your best self. Okay?”

 

“Okay.” She nodded in agreement, and a grin began to peek out from behind her frown. “How are you so good at this, Jug? Being on the run?”

 

He lifted her into his arms, surprising a gasp out of her. “Because, I’m not on the run, Betty. This is the first time I’ve ever actually stopped running.”

 

She pushed her fingers into his hair, and he wondered why he’d worn a hat all the time when he could’ve been having this instead. “I’m glad you’re my faux husband, baby.”

 

“I’m glad you’re my wife.” For him, it wasn’t fake.

 

Betty smiled and continued to absently play with his hair. “You know how I told Veronica I would find something to clear Archie’s name? I think I actually might have an idea of where to start, a way to get us all back home.”

 

To get back to Riverdale was what they all wanted, it was their ultimate goal. Wasn’t it?

 

A cold, uneasy feeling crept its way up his spine, and he tried his best to ignore it. “That so?”

 

“Maybe.” She yawned softly, dropped one of her legs over his, and pressed her face into the crook of his neck. “You smell good. Did you smell this good at home?”

 

“Nope.” Jughead wrapped his arms around her and held her until she fell asleep.

 


	2. Atmospheric Conditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More undercover shenanigans and silly hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to thank everybody who left a review on the first chapter. They were very much appreciated, as always. I had finals two weeks ago and was at my second psych residency all last week (where they barely let me out of my cage), so I haven’t had a chance to respond yet to everybody’s comments, but I definitely will this weekend!
> 
> So...this ended up being a little longer than I thought and I decided to break it up into two chapters. Yay? Also, it’s a bit more (ahem) explicit, for those who need the warning.
> 
> I pretty much owe arsenicpanda a thouand beers for all of her fast and hard work keeping me Oxford comma-compliant, so thank you, girl!
> 
> Hope you all enjoy this!

* * *

 

 

“Lucy, I’m home!” Betty keyed open the front door to the house and pushed, but the motion was stopped by an immobile object. “What the--”

 

“Hang on!” she heard Jughead screaming from deep inside the house. “Coming!”

 

She dropped her keys back into her bag and waited impatiently for Jughead to let her in, stopping to pull her pale blue coat tighter around her throat. “Hurry, Jug, it’s cold out here!”

 

“Almost there!” he shouted, this time from somewhere much closer. A grunt and a muffled curse, followed by the loud scraping of wood against wood, rattled Betty’s ears, and the door was finally open, revealing her boyfriend looking sweaty and red faced. “This is getting out of hand.”

 

She took a deep breath and allowed him to help her up onto the mission-style coffee table that had been blocking the entrance and shut the door behind her. “Oh dear.”

 

“That wasn’t exactly my reaction, but I don’t disagree.” Jughead squeezed her hand tightly and led her on a treacherous path to the living room, climbing over chairs and circumventing other various pieces of furniture.

 

Veronica, parked safely in a leather armchair with a steaming cup of tea resting at her feet as she worked on a laptop, looked up as they entered the room. “Are you going to say something about this to him or what?”

 

“Hello Betty. Welcome home from work,” Betty snapped back, then did a visual tour of the house and sighed. “I suppose it is kind of a fire hazard.”

 

“Kind of?” Veronica slid her glasses to the edge of her nose. “Not only are our exits all blocked, but we’re surrounded by wood and cans of flammable varnish. We live in a tinderbox.” She gestured to Jughead, “Imagine one day he’s careless when he’s sneaking one of those smokes he thinks we don’t know about...poof! We’re all dead.”

 

Jughead scoffed weakly at the accusation. “I don’t…” Betty’s eyes cut to him, and his words trailed off. “Okay, fine, I might _occasionally_ light up when I’m having a rough day, but it’s not often and I’m always careful.”

 

“We live like rats in a two-story colonial cage. I can hear every time you flush your toilet, you think I can’t smell weed burning beneath my window?” Veronica pushed her glasses back in place. “Something needs to be done about this.”

 

Both of them looked at Betty, and she raised her hands. “Why me?”

 

“You know why.” Veronica closed her MacBook Air with finality. “J has a problem saying no to him, and he and I are not...it can’t be me. You have to do it, he’ll listen to you.”

 

“You don’t know that.” Despite what Betty told them, deep down she knew it was true.

 

“You’re the mom friend,” Veronica said, staring her down. “Go parent Archie.”

 

“I’m not the--” Betty looked to Jughead for support, but was met with an apologetic look. “Jug!”

 

“You are the mom friend, Betts, but a total MILF, if that makes it go down any easier.”

 

He reached for Betty’s hand, but she weakly slapped it out of the way with a groan. “You both suck.”

 

* * *

 

Archie was crouched down in the corner of the garage sanding the leg of an unfinished banquette. His hair had grown longer than it had ever been since she’d known him, enough to tie back into half a bun. He’d been wearing a beard for the last month--lush and full--far more than Jughead would ever have been capable of, though Betty was thankful for that.

 

“Hey Archie.” Betty waved at him from across the crowded room, and he brightened when he saw her.

 

“Betty--you’re home early!” He pulled the safety goggles from his face, checked the clock on the wall, and frowned. “It’s already 6:30? I swear it was 10 AM last time I checked.”  

 

Betty forced a laugh and gestured to the clutter. “Time flies when you’re...whatever this is.” She made her way carefully to the bench he was not sitting on and rested beside him. “This is quite the operation you’ve got going on down here, Arch.”

 

“You should see the--oh!” He hopped off the bench and retrieved something rectangular and delicate from a high shelf, then enthusiastically presented it to her. “I made you something.”

 

She looked at the object in her hands, a beautifully carved jewelry box, stained cherry and inlaid with parquet tiles with a high-gloss sheen applied to the top. “Oh my God, Archie, this is beautiful! Thank you.” It was much nicer than any jewelry box she’d ever seen before. “But, why?”

 

He shrugged bashfully. “I wanted to do something nice for you. You’ve been working long hours at that law firm and I know I’ve been keeping Jug down here with me more than I should.”

 

“He doesn’t mind,” she insisted, her heart feeling heavy with worry for her friend. Though she did miss her alone time with Jughead, Archie’s mental state took precedence.

 

“I know he doesn’t, but I can’t imagine you’re too thrilled about it. I just wanted to say thank you, for you know, loaning him to me.”

 

“You’re our friend and we love you. It’s never a problem supporting you, but if you’d just talk to Ver--”

 

He shook his head vehemently, cutting her off. “I can’t Betty. Not yet. Not until I make something of myself here. I know she thinks I’m a disappointment, like she bet all her chips on me and lost.”

 

“Veronica does not think that you’re a disappointment.” Betty gently laid the box beside her and grabbed Archie’s sawdust covered face between her palms. “We are all just very concerned about you. This house,” she glanced around the garage and the furniture stacked against the walls, “it’s not safe to live in like this. Something has to change.”

 

He looked up at her with sad puppy dog eyes and tightened his jaw, as if tamping down the urge to cry, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I thought about what my dad might do in this situation, and,” he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “well, he never would be. I’m the one who got everybody into this mess and I’ve got to pull my weight somehow.”

 

Her grip slid from his face, and she reached for his hands. “You are so talented, Archie. You have so much to contribute, you’re just feeling a little lost.”

 

“We’re all lost. We’re living in fucking Vermont as different people. Archie Andrews doesn’t exist anymore.” A tear slipped from his eye, he sniffed and covertly wiped it away on his shoulder.

 

“Yes he does!” Betty tightened her hold on his hands to jerk him out of his malaise. “He is right here in front of me. I’ve known you all our lives and I know you can do this. We can do it together, you just have to let us in.”

 

He looked around the garage at the half finished pieces of furniture. “I know what all this looks like to you all, I know that you think I’m crazy.”

 

Betty wanted to laugh; the last thing she ever thought she’d experience was Archie coming to her to discuss _his_ mental health. “We both know you’re not the crazy one between us. I think Jughead can attest to that.”

 

The corners of his mouth picked up into a genuine smile. “You and Jug are so lucky, you accept each other, warts and all.”

 

“Veronica loves you and accepts you. She’s not--okay, she’s not perfect, and maybe she didn’t react the way you wanted her to when we first started this whole journey, but she deserves a chance. You both do. You can get her back.”

 

Archie shook his head and rose from the bench. “No, you don’t get it. I don’t _want_ her to take me back. She can--and should--do so much better than me, Betty. It’s better for her if I stay away.”

 

Archie’s words took her to the night she stood outside the Whyte Wyrm, crying and shivering in her too short skirt as Jughead pushed her away. Jughead thought he was doing it for her own good, too, and he couldn’t have been more wrong. Breaking up with her sent them both spiraling in ways they wouldn’t have done if they’d been together.

 

“Why are men so arrogant?” Betty angrily scrambled to her feet and followed him to the workstation, wagging a finger in his face. “If you truly wanted the best for Veronica, you’d let her choose what she thinks will make her happy. It’s not your place to take away her agency like this.”

 

“I’m trying to do the right thing.”

 

“Well, you’re not. The right thing is letting her decide what’s best for her. If you don’t love her anymore--”

 

“Of course, I still love her!” he said, desperately, his face creased with sorrow. “And, I miss her.”

 

“Then stop being an idiot and tell her that. I mean look at all of this shit, Archie!” Betty waved an arm around in the air. “If anybody would know what to do with all of it, it’s her.”

 

* * *

 

Jughead was warm between her legs, his hands pinning her arms over her head as his mouth took a lazy path from her earlobe down to the valley of her breasts.

 

 _‘Fall at Your Feet’,_ by Crowded House, was playing softly over an 80’s Pandora station, giving them sound cover and adding itself to the long soundtrack of lazy afternoons they’d spent together like this. The farce she’d been living was exhausting, and being with him like this, holding him, had become the only time was herself anymore.

 

Betty’s legs tightened around his waist, and she lifted her pelvis to gain friction against his.

 

“Let me take my time with you,” he whispered, a breath of warm air ghosting across her left nipple, giving her goosebumps. “Ever since you started working for that law firm, you’ve been all go...go...go.” He nipped the delicate skin with each repetition, and she felt herself grow wetter.

 

Betty’s back arched at the sting of his teeth, a sharp reminder pulling her from her thoughts and back to reality. “Come on, please?”

 

“No.” A breathy laugh, low and taunting, left his lips, and his hands tightened further around her wrists, his wedding ring digging painfully into her bone. “That’s not how this works.”

 

She whimpered her frustration and let him have things his way, knowing it was probably what she really wanted anyway. He didn’t always give her what she asked for, but he never failed to give her what she needed.

 

His teeth raked over her chest again, and she inhaled loudly. “Jug--”

 

“Sometimes, I wish it were just the two of us,” he said, kissing his way back up to the hollow of her neck. “We could go anywhere, be anything, instead of being stuck in this house losing all concept of space and time.”

 

She shivered from the vibration of his voice against her throat and gasped, “Where would we go?”

 

“I don’t know. I’m not sure it matters. Anywhere but here.” His grip loosened, and he threaded his fingers through hers, pressing their joined hands against the mattress, before gazing deeply into her eyes. “Am I being greedy?”

 

She knew how he felt, because she’d been feeling the same thing for a while. Though she and Veronica had gotten closer than ever to bringing down Hiram, the urge to disappear with Jughead was in the back of her mind almost constantly, buried under logic and executive functioning.

 

“You’re the least greedy person I know.”

 

“I just, well, I never thought I’d ever get to have this.” His sweat-slicked body brushed up against hers, and her toes curled from the sensation.

 

Her brow quirked at him, and she lifted her head slightly. “Have what?”

 

Rather than answering right away, his mouth captured hers in a bruising kiss. “You. All of it.”

 

Betty shook her hands lose from his and sunk them into his hair, forcing his chin up to look at her. “You will always have this.” She placed his hands on her face, then slid them down her torso until they rested between her thighs. “And this.”

 

He shot her a lopsided smile, and she felt her insides tighten. “I don’t care where we go, as long as we’re together.”

 

She didn’t want to ask, but something in her gut told her that she had to, particularly since she’d been keeping so much from him about her quest to get them home. “Anywhere?”

 

“Anywhere but Riverdale, obviously.” He dipped two fingers inside of her, pumping them experimentally before groaning, “How are you so always wet?”

 

Six months ago, that question would’ve made her blush, but now they were long past shy.

 

Betty rocked against his hand and then buried her face into his neck, hoping he wouldn’t see the guilt brimming behind her eyes. “I guess I just really love you?”

 

He removed his hand slowly from inside of her and intertwined his damp fingers with hers again, then looked intently at her face, as if trying to memorize it, and huffed out a shaky breath. “I’m going to marry you for real one day, Betty Cooper.”

 

“Yes,” she said quickly, unable to keep the euphoric smile off her lips. “Yes, you will.”

 

* * *

 

Veronica was standing in front of their charcoal Honda CR-V in a platinum blonde wig, oversized sunglasses, and camel hair trench coat, looking like something out of a Sia music video. Betty slipped a pair of rimless reading glasses onto her nose and gathered her auburn hair into a neat top-knot, checking in the rear view mirror that the pins were secured before exiting the car.

 

Veronica gave Betty the once over and smirked. “You look like a dirty librarian.”

 

Betty took a deep breath and opened her mouth to reply. “At least I don--”

 

“That was a compliment. Jesus, you’re tightly wound.” Veronica rolled her neck, taking a moment to massage it with one hand. “Maybe, we could both use a massage when this is done. My treat.”

 

“I still don’t understand how you have an income.”

 

“One day, I’ll explain what day trading and bitcoin currency are to you, but today is not that day.” She patted the side of Betty’s cheek, then tweaked the edge of Betty’s Peter Pan collar to get her attention. “You ready for this, Sydney Bristow?”

 

Betty was absolutely not ready, but this was the best chance they would get to dig up dirt on Hiram Lodge. “Of course.”

 

Salomon, Rand & Duff, the law firm where Betty had been working as an executive assistant for the last six weeks, was the on-retainer legal team for Lodge Industries. Their main headquarters were in White Plains, but they had several satellite offices located from Manhattan to Montreal. During a title search, Betty discovered the parents of Cassidy Bullock had purchased a multimillion dollar waterfront house in Shadow Lake after Archie’s arraignment and attempted to follow a paper trail.

 

It was suspicious that a dime store merchant could afford a place so expensive. After several weeks of chasing dead ends, Veronica suggested that her father may have laundered the payoff through his law firm. As none of them could hack a security system, it meant that somebody had to break into the office to find proof the old fashioned way. The path of least resistance was a desk job for Betty, and after six weeks working her way up the ranks, her managers were finally putting her on the permanent payroll and rotating her to work for one of the senior partners.

 

She had a keycard and computer access. Now, all she needed was a smoking gun. It wouldn’t necessarily get Archie off, but it could create reasonable doubt, giving his lawyers something to base their case off. They’d decided the best time to try this was on a Friday, hoping people would be too distracted with weekend plans to notice a breach, if they noticed at all.

 

“Get the files right before you’re supposed to take your lunch break and then fake sick. I’ll be idling outside waiting for you.” Veronica flipped the car keys in her hand. “I’ll be your Baby Driver.”

 

“If I get caught--”

 

“You’re not getting caught,” Veronica said, definitively, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

 

Betty thought she could handle going to jail, if it came to that. If she could weather her own father stalking and then trying to murder her, she could handle anything. It wasn’t herself she was concerned about; it was Jughead. She didn’t want to think about the crazy things he’d resort to in order to free her if she ended up behind bars.

 

“Okay, but if I do,” Betty cocked her head to the side and willed her best friend to understand, “Jug…”

 

She seemed to catch on right away; she usually did. “I won’t let him do anything stupid. I promise, hun.”

 

“Thank you,” Betty whispered, meaningfully, and nodded her head, unable to say more without losing her composure.

 

Veronica rested her hands on Betty’s shoulders. “You’ve got this, girl. You brought down Clifford Blossom, the Black Hood and the Candy Man. You’re Betty _fucking_ Cooper!”

 

“Not today, I’m not.” Betty took a deep breath and plastered on an artificial smile. “Pray I don’t fuck this up.”

 

She turned toward the office, forcing one foot in front of the other until she reached the front door of the office building.

 

“Viva la revolucion!” Betty heard Veronica calling out from behind her.

 

* * *

 

Jughead hadn’t spoken to Betty in two days, would barely even look at her. She’d tried to talk to him about what happened at the law firm, but he wasn’t ready to listen. And though the guilt of keeping secrets from him continued to gnaw at her conscience, she didn’t regret it. If he had known what she was planning, he would’ve tried to stop her--might have even succeeded.

 

Veronica and Betty’s mission had been a triumph, with Betty making an electronic copy of the paper trail for the Bullock payoff and covertly slipping the thumb drive into her purse. As planned, she had pretended to be ill and immediately left the building. Nobody suspected a thing. She would have to go back to work tomorrow and pretend all was well, and the thought of it was more frightening to her than the original heist.

 

Jughead was sitting on a porch chair under a heated lamp, plucking away at his manual typewriter as the snow fell a few feet away on the bones of Archie’s once-thriving garden. One lock of sandy blond hair fell out from under his hat as he leaned forward, squinting to read something he’d just written.

 

“Do you mind if I sit out here with you?” Betty asked.

 

Jughead didn’t respond, so she decided to take his non-answer as consent and brought two mugs of spiked hot chocolate outside with her, resting one on the table next to his typewriter.

 

He looked at the mug, and then back up at her. There was a blank expression on his face, but Betty had known him long enough to detect the hurt tucked behind the calm facade. “Is this is a peace offering?”

 

She shook her head and chanced taking a seat next to him. “It’s just a hot chocolate. No strings attached.”

 

He looked at the drink suspiciously, like he was struggling to accept it, but she knew his hunger would win out in the end; it always did.

 

“Thanks,” he mumbled as he brought the cup to his lips.

 

“What are you working on?” She scooted a few inches closer to him under the guise of looking at his work.

 

He sighed and turned to look at her. “We’re not there yet, okay?”

 

Betty bit her lip and nodded, but remained in place. She missed him terribly, and if the closest he’d let her be to him was in the next chair, that’s where she’d remain.

 

He typed a few more minutes in silence, stopping periodically to take a sip from the mug, then abruptly rose from his seat, tearing the sheet of paper from the typewriter, crumpling it up and hauling it into the yard with a frustrated grunt.

 

Betty swallowed nervously at the display and stood up. “Jug--?”

 

“No!” His head whipped back toward her, eyes flashing with anger.

 

Betty stumbled back from the force of his glare, nearly topping backward into her chair. He’d never looked at her like he’d hated her before, never spoken to her in that tone. She hiccuped a breath and then turned to flee, but he caught her wrist before she could reach the door.

 

They stood there frozen, both out of breath, neither of them able to speak.

 

Seconds passed, and Betty felt the cold beginning to seep through the wool fabric of her coat, but she was prepared to freeze if it meant he would finally talk to her.  

 

Jughead opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. His shoulders dropped along with his gaze, and just when Betty was sure he was going to turn away, he hauled her body against his, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe.

 

“I’m so--I’m mad at you. I’ve never been so mad in my entire life,” he said, brokenly, as he pressed a kiss into her hair. “How could you-- _why_ would you keep something like this from me?”

 

Betty inhaled the clean scent of his jacket, fresh from the wash, and pressed herself closer to him. “You would have tried to stop me.”

 

Jughead released a humorless laugh. “You’re goddamn right I would have.” He pulled back to look at her, bending slightly to bring their faces even. “And you would’ve done it anyway, but at least I would’ve known. Since when do we keep secrets from each other?”

 

Betty’s face crumpled, tears pricking her eyes. She hadn’t meant to make him feel this way, everything she’d ever done was to help her friends get home. “I’m sorry,” she gasped out, the heat from her emotions keeping the shivering cold at bay. “For some reason, I just didn’t think I could tell you.”

 

Jughead’s expression took a complicated journey, and he turned his back to her. “It’s my fault. If you didn’t feel you could trust me, I’m clearly doing something wrong.”

 

Betty wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face into his back. “I love you. I don’t know why felt I had to keep it from you--”

 

“I have an idea.”

 

She felt the vibrations of his words on her hands and cheek and held him tighter. “Tell me.”

 

“You’re trying to get us home. That’s not what I want and deep down you know it.” He turned in the circle of her arms then grabbed her hand, leading her back to the chair under the heat lamp and pulling her into his lap. “I’m not going home, Betty.”

 

“But what if the Ghoulies--”

 

“Ever.” His face was placid, like he’d come to terms with this decision a long time ago.

 

She blinked up at him, betrayed, a wave of anxiety rolling through her. “What?”

 

He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and let his fingers linger on the end of it. “Even if the Ghoulies weren’t after me anymore, even if Archie is free. I’m not ever stepping foot in Riverdale again. I’ve already made up my mind.”

 

“You’ve made this decision without speaking to me?” Now frowning, it was Betty’s turn to be angry. “Here I was feeling guilty about keeping things from you when you’re such a hypocrite.”

 

He took a labored breath. “Betty--”

 

“What if I went back to Riverdale? Would you still stay away?” Panic began to claw its way across her chest, making it hard for her to breath. She’d been taking her medicine diligently, doing so well, but the mere idea of Jughead leaving her had her fingers curling back into her palms. “Would you?”

 

“Baby--” He noticed instantly and forced both her hands flat across her thighs.

 

“Damn it.” Betty pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes and began to cry in earnest. “All this time, I thought--God, I’m so stupid. So fucking stupid.”

 

He gently pulled her hands away. “Betty, I love you. Always. That’s never going to change.”

 

“Just not enough to go back home with me, right?” She narrowed her eyes at him as his widened.

 

“I--I don’t want to lose you.”

 

“Good to know.” Betty nodded and climbed off his lap.

 

* * *

 

_All I ever wanted_

_All I ever needed_

_Is here in my arms_

_Words are very unnecessary_

_They can only do harm_

 

They were lying in bed the next evening, Pandora playing the same 80’s station as before. The strains of Depeche Mode’s _‘Enjoy the Silence’_ barely covered up the sounds of Archie fucking Veronica into the mattress on the other side of the wall, which only made things infinitely more awkward between Betty and Jughead.

 

Weeks ago, on Betty’s advice, Archie approached Veronica for ideas on what to do with his stock of furniture. Within days, she’d consigned them to several high-end home furnishing stores and boutiques where they seemed to be flying off the showroom floors. And, after the revelation of what they’d gained at Solomon, Rand & Duff, it wasn’t long before they’d made their partnership a personal one again.

 

Betty was glad for them, certainly relieved to see Archie clean-shaven and bright-eyed once more, but she couldn’t help but wonder if they were all cursed never to be happy at the same time.

 

“Are you asleep?” Jughead asked, rolling onto his side to face her.

 

She remained on her back, staring at the crown moldings on the ceiling. “It’s not possible to sleep through this.”

 

Jughead took a long pause before speaking again. “Maybe you’re not tired enough?”

 

Betty audibly balked. “If this is your way of trying to initiate sex with me, you can forget about it, mister. I’d rather never sleep again.”

 

Through her peripheral vision, she could see the corners of his mouth curl up in amusement. “Ever again? That can’t be true.”

 

Betty crossed her arms across her chest rather than answering, she wasn’t about to engage in playful bantering with him.

 

His fingers rested lightly on the inside of her thigh and her body betrayed her, answering his touch with a flood of warmth that surged through her. “I’m not putting my hands on you.”

 

His fingers inched up the inside of her thigh, stopping at the edge of her panties. “I don’t mind.”

 

“What?” Betty’s head turned toward him, and he lunged forward, his mouth wet and sloppy against the side of her neck forging a wet path to her ear. She cursed her fragile resolve. She was arching against him, while at the same time weakly whispering, “Stop. I don’t want you to,” with a total lack of conviction.

 

The tip of one finger pushed past the elastic of her underwear and dragged through the wetness there. “Fuck, Betty, are you sure about that?”

 

Her control shredded like tissue paper as she bore down onto his hand with a moan. “This means nothing. I’m not touching you, Jug.”

 

“I don’t care.” He slipped another finger inside of her and pressed them both in deeply, pulling a gasp from her lips. “Just let me touch you, please.”

 

She bit her lip and nodded, knowing when she was beat. There was no way she had the mental strength to stop this from happening, not when his fingers were rubbing against her insides and stroking her so perfectly.

 

He slithered down the mattress until his face was level with her pelvis and pressed his lips to her bellybutton. The shock of his warm mouth against her chilled skin had her grappling for his hair.

 

“Do you want to ride my face?” he asked, casually, as he licked her through the thin strip of cotton covering her center. “You can pull my hair as hard as you like.”

 

Not bothering to wait for an answer, Jughead pulled his fingers from inside of her and licked them slowly, one by one, before pulling her underwear down her legs and off in one motion.

 

He lowered his back onto the bed and grabbed her bare ass, coaxing her forward. “Hop on.”

 

It was a very bad idea, fooling around with him when she didn’t know where they stood, but Betty rationalized he’d already had his fingers inside of her, so it wasn’t like that line hadn’t been crossed. She rose up onto her knees and straddled his neck, facing away from him. Strong hands grabbed her ass, massaging her cheeks for a moment before parting them and blowing a stream of hot air onto her, followed by a cold one.

 

Betty inhaled sharply at the sensation, turned on knowing how open and on display she was to him. She was so aroused she could barely think straight, but she never could walk past a locked door without trying to open it. “Why are you doing this?”

 

His chest rose and fell, taking her with him. “I miss you.”

 

Suddenly livid, she climbed off of him and sat back on her heels. “Imagine how much you’ll miss me when I’m back in Riverdale and you’re god knows where.” She flung her arm angrily toward the window. “Maybe you should start getting yourself used to it.”

 

Before she could scurry off the bed, he’d grabbed her around the waist to keep her there.

 

“I’m too frightened to go back,” he admitted, his words muffled by her t-shirt.

 

Betty relented, sinking back on to the mattress. “We would never go back unless we knew you’d be safe.”

 

He looked at her and laughed. “Not of that. Either way, nobody is ever safe there and you know it. My life in Riverdale has been a nightmare from beginning to end. I’m happy to leave that place in the rear view mirror.”

 

She swallowed hard, trying not to take his hurtful words personally. “Your entire life has been a nightmare?”

 

He kneeled facing her, a look of recognition crossing his face. “Every minute I wasn’t with you, yeah. Riverdale is a hellmouth. You can’t tell me you want to stay there forever.”

 

She reached out and touched his cheek. “It’s our home.”

 

“No. _You’re_ my home. Riverdale is just a shitty town in Rockland County.” The veins in his neck were taut with strain as he grabbed her other hand. “Please, baby.”

 

Betty carded her hand through his hair, letting the flaxen strands slip through her fingers.

 

She thought about their lives, what they had to look forward to, and Betty realized her reasons for returning didn’t have anything to do with what Riverdale was, but what it could one day be for her. If she didn’t return, she would mourn the loss of that potential, but it would be a drop in the bucket compared to the pain of losing him. “Okay, Jug.”

 

His features went slack and he exhaled loudly, clutching his chest in relief. “Oh thank god, you scared the shit out of me.”

 

Betty started to laugh, feeling exactly the same as he looked. “Good. You deserved it.”

 

“I did. I’m sorry.” He carefully placed a few kisses on the side of her mouth and she finally turned into them.

 

“You’re such a pain in the ass, sometimes, husband,” she said, sighing as he kissed her again.

 

“I know, but you still love me anyway and I adore you for it, wife,” he said against her lips, as his hand cradled the side of her neck.

 

“Yeah? Prove it.” She raised an eyebrow at him, and he gleefully pushed her backward onto the bed.

 

* * *

 

Betty looked at herself in the hallway mirror to do a last-minute check of her hair before meeting the others in the foyer to leave for the show. She stared at her makeup for a moment and realized she had never quite found the right lipstick shade to match her auburn hair. It didn’t matter though, because soon she would be a blonde again and this experience would pass, like waking from a year-long fever dream.

 

It was spring now, and the frost that had covered Archie’s plot had given way to tender shoots struggling to break free from the earth and begin their life journey once again. They would eventually bloom and the garden would turn over, the changing shapes and bright hues transforming the backyard landscape like colored thread on a tapestry.

 

Betty wasn’t sure she and Jughead would remain there long enough to see the garden bear fruit, but they would stay as long as it took to gather enough evidence to keep Archie safe. After that, their future was wide open.

 

“If the Ghoulies don’t kill me, I’m pretty sure that dress will.” Jughead came up behind her, slid his arms around her waist, and dropped a kiss on her shoulder. “If you care about my life at all, you’ll take it off.”

 

”So desperate.” Betty smiled at his reflection in the mirror. “You act like you’ve never seen me naked.”

 

He flipped her around by the hips and squeezed her waist. “Every time feels like the first.”

 

Though Betty knew men said that kind of stuff all the time to women, the way he was looking at her now, the way he always looked at her, made her believe he was telling the truth. “You realize I’m a sure thing, right? You may as well save those sweet lines when you need to get those other ladies into bed.”

 

He rested his chin on her shoulder, and his fingertips teased the hem of her green satin slip dress where it hit the back of her thighs. “Is that your way of telling me you want a threesome? Because--”

 

“Do not finish that sentence!” Betty playfully pushed his shoulders, but he caught her hands and reeled her back.

 

“I was going to say that I’m not interested in other ladies besides you, so you may as well gird your loins for all the tacky lines coming your way.”

 

“I’m girding as we speak.” Betty looked down and started laughing, finally having gotten a good look at what he was wearing. “Do you plan on teaching an art history class later tonight, or...?”

 

Jughead straightened the wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose with a flourish and smoothed the material of his black turtleneck with his hands. “You know, you can just come out and tell me this outfit makes you wet. No need to play coy, Betty.”

 

“Ugh.” Veronica swanned through the room at a brisk pace. “It’s bad enough that I now know what Jughead sounds like when he climaxes, is it too much to retain some social boundaries?”

 

Jughead caught Betty’s eye, and they started to giggle, which only stoked Veronica’s ire. She had been getting ready for Archie’s furniture show all week, and if all went according to plan, by the end of the night they would have a nice-sized nest egg.

 

“Are you two--” Veronica cut herself off at the sight of Jughead’s outfit and shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. “You look like Jack Kerouac fucked a German existentialist. Hard no.”

 

Betty’s giggling turned into a loud guffaw, but Jughead regained his composure, straightening his face into a mask of feigned offence. “You said I could go if I didn’t look like me.”

 

“Mission accomplished,” Veronica sneered, then threw her manicured hands into the air in surrender. “Whatever! This is Burlington, not Manhattan, and while Veronica Lodge wouldn’t be caught dead in a photograph next to this crime against fashion,” she pointed at Jughead with a sour expression, “Regina Villanueva apparently has one tacky friend in her entourage.”

 

“So, we’re cool?” he asked.

 

“No, Betty and I are cool, you’re…” Veronica glanced at his clothes and grimaced, not even bothering to finish her sentence.      

 

“I don’t see why he gets to go and I can’t.” Archie shuffled into the hallway wearing a pair of soft plaid pajama pants, a pout, and nothing else.

 

Veronica grabbed his cheeks and softly squeezed. “We went over this Archiekins. I know it’s sad you can’t go, but we’re just trying to keep you safe and sound.” She pressed a kiss onto his mouth with a smack, leaving a crimson stain behind. “I’ll FaceTime you from the event so you can watch people ooh and ahh over your magnificent creations.”

 

Archie acquiesced, and his shoulders dropped in disappointment. He looked to be on the verge of tears until he noticed Jughead in the background, and his spirits instantaneously lifted along with his impish grin. “You look like the kind of guy who purposely over-pronounces the word ‘gazebo’.”

 

A slow smile spread across Jughead’s face. “Yeah? I’ll be sure to work it into my conversations at the event you’re not going to tonight.”

 

Archie’s expression immediately fell. “Not cool, bro.”

 

* * *

 

Betty was exhausted--not tired, exhausted--but the kind of bone-dead weariness borne of seemingly endless days slogging through a tedious job and long, monotonous nights. There was something building inside of her that had been growing since her promise to Jughead that they would leave Burlington for parts unknown. It was an unnamed feeling, but it had been sticking to them both like humid air before a storm.

 

She rolled over to look at him, studying his face is the early morning light. Though she found him attractive whatever his hair color, she missed the familiarity of waking up to his dark mop of hair spread across a pillow. She longed for the way things were—however bad they could get at times—knowing full well that the sharp edges of her memories had been dulled by time and distance.

 

“Not that I’m not flattered, but is there some reason you’re staring at me like I’m about to go off to war?” Jughead turned over onto his side and smirked at her.

 

Betty brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. “I just miss you.”

 

His eyebrow quirked in confusion. “I’m lying here next to you.”

 

“Not—“ she shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “I miss old you, the way you normally look.”

 

“Not a fan of the blond?”

 

“It’s not that—this really has nothing to do with your hair, I don’t know why I said that.” She sighed and combed her hand through his hair again, pensively. “We’ve known each other for as long as I can remember, and I just…”

 

His eyes softened with understanding, and he dragged the back of his finger under her chin. “You miss our old life.”

 

She waved her other hand in front of her face. “This is so stupid.”

 

“It’s not. For as much as I’m digging the red hair, I miss old you, too.” He reached up and wrapped a section of her hair around his finger. “I’m admittedly not fond of our old existence, but I’m definitely sick of being Jason and Liz.”

 

Her fingers slipped through his hair again, the contrast of its sandy color against her skin still striking her as wrong. “Is it weird that I miss school?”

 

Jughead laughed easily and gently tugged the end of her hair. “It’s definitely weird, but you were always more of a joiner than I was.”

 

She narrowed her eyes at him, a look of disbelief cresting her face. “You literally joined a gang, Jug.”

 

“Yeah, and it literally almost got me killed. It could have gotten you killed, too.” His expression tightened, and Betty could feel the regret rolling off him.

 

She glanced at his fingers, which had begun to wind into the ends of her hair again, and was distracted by the flash of gold. She had been looking at his ring more often lately, wondering what it meant for them, both now and in the future. Would they ever get to do this as themselves, or would they always have to settle for this poor facsimile of a life together?

 

“I don’t think I’ll ever love anybody as much as I love you,” she blurted out, in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. Romantic declarations like this weren’t generally part of her lexicon, not like they were for him.

 

“Betty…” he breathed out, eyes intently searching her face and making her feel like a specimen in a lab.

 

“What?” She tried to smile, punctuating her question with a short laugh to lighten the mood. He was staring at her now the same way he had the night he’d asked her to stop drinking.

 

“Not that I don’t love hearing you say these kinds of things, but where is this all coming from?”

 

She shrugged and tried her best to achieve a normal affect, but her skin was too tight across her smile, and she could feel the strain of it tugging at her. “How far do you think we’d have to go in order to be ourselves again?”

 

The corners of his mouth turned down. “I really don’t know, but I think we need to be prepared that there’s a chance it won’t happen for a long time. I may not be directly in Penny’s line of fire now, but if she’s got an alert out, she will come for me if I start using my own identity again.”

 

Betty hadn’t really been expecting a different answer, but was disappointed nonetheless. “Okay.”

 

“But hey, silver linings, if we go far enough away, I don’t see any reason our drapes can’t match our carpets again.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “I miss you being blonde everywhere.”

 

“I would’ve thought you’d enjoy a little bit of variety, most men do.”

 

“Since when am I most men?” He rolled his eyes and leaned forward to kiss her.

 

The sound of the doorbell ringing violently jerked them out of their moment. In the ten months they’d been living there, it had never rung once. A bolt of fear shot through Betty, compelling her into flight mode. She sat up quickly, realizing she might be the only one who could handle this development, and began to rise from the bed.

 

At the same moment, Jughead grabbed her arm to hold her there. “I’ll go.”

 

Betty shook off his grip and continued to climb off the mattress. “That’s ridiculous. Unlike you, nobody is looking for me. You’re safer here.”

 

Disregarding her warning, Jughead followed Betty as she padded quickly toward the front door, only to be intercepted by Veronica, who was nervously pacing the hallway.

 

“Who the fuck is that?” Veronica asked them, as their twin expressions of concern met hers. “Do we answer it or pretend not to be home?”

 

“If we don’t answer and they’re here for the boys, they will come back...but, it could also be nothing.” Betty looked between her best friend and boyfriend. “I’d like to know either way.”

 

“Agreed.” Veronica pulled her robe more tightly around her waist.

 

Jughead slightly nodded. “Okay.”

 

“Okay.” Betty took a deep breath and put on a brave face. “I’ll check the peephole. You two hang back.”

 

Jughead leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, not budging.

 

“Jug!” Betty hissed in exasperation.

 

He shrugged defiantly. “I’m not leaving you out here alone.”

 

“Neither am I,” echoed Veronica. “It could be one of Daddy’s minions. You’ll need me here for that.”

 

“You’re both overprotective idiots. It’s probably just a kid selling Girl Scout cookies or something.” Betty rolled her eyes at both of them but didn’t have the strength to argue.

 

Betty crossed into the foyer and placed a flat hand on the surface of the front door, buying herself a few extra seconds to rouse the nerve to open it. She rose onto her toes and cautiously peered through the keyhole, only to find the last person she’d ever expected to have tracked them down. She dropped back on her heels and fell against the door jam for support. “Holy shit.”

 

“Is it Daddy?” Veronica looked stricken and unusually pale.

 

Betty shook her head numbly and unfastened the three sets of deadbolts they’d added to the front door when they moved in.

 

Jughead took a step toward her. “Betts, are you o—?”

 

“No, I’m not,” Betty whispered and wrenched open the door, revealing an angry-looking Alice Cooper behind it.

 

“Liz Woodcombe, I presume?” Alice’s scowl began to relax as her eyes drifted down Betty’s form. “You look remarkably good for a woman who has been dead for nearly 10 years. Did you think I wouldn’t be able to track you down using my own mother’s maiden name, Elizabeth?””

 

Betty swallowed hard, but her throat remained desert dry. “Hi mom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Veronica is clutching her pearls, are you?
> 
> I would love to hear your thoughts, because your comments really do mean the world to me.
> 
> BTW, I’m starting my practicum next week, but I’m committed to bringing you the end of this fic as well as the end of El Niño, so stay tuned.
> 
> Thanks for reading :)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this weird jaunt into canon divergence and I thank you for reading. 
> 
> I’d love to hear what you think of it, if you’ve got the time and energy, because reader feedback is more precious than gold!


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